WYRDA
by AryaSvitkona
Summary: After the battle of the Burning Plains, Eragon and Saphira return to Ellesmera to resume their training. However, when Nasuada and Arya are kidnapped by the Ra'zac, Eragon and Saphira embark on a dangerous journey, just the two of them. Without Brom there


Eragon opened his eyes and the memories from the day before crashed over him with crushing force; Hrothgar dead: Murtagh alive: Murtagh a rider: Murtagh his brother: him, Eragon Shadeslayer the son of Morzan.

Morzan, thought Eragon, a surge of nausea welling in his stomach.

The thought of being the son of the man who had betrayed the riders to the mad Galbatorix was repugnant. Eragon could not bear it.

Everything was happening to fast; Katrina's kidnap: the appearance of all of Carvahall, and more importantly, Roran: actually seeing the damage of his distorted blessing on Elva. It was all too much to bear.

"You should go see her," Saphira said.

"You're right," Eragon replied. "I won't be able to heal her though."

"Angela will understand, even if she doesn't like it."

"Perhaps," Eragon muttered, remembering Angela's fury at what he had done to the child.

"Do you want me to heal you?"

"Only if it isn't still too much for you," Saphira said.

Eragon smiled. "No. I'll be right there. Just let me get dressed."

"Please do before you reveal yourself to the entire Varden," Saphira said, laughing in her peculiar way. Eragon joined her, unable to help it.

Rolling to his feet, Eragon donned one of his elven tunics, breeches and boots. He ran a hand through his hair to make it lie flat, shaved with magic and left the tent. Saphira was waiting for him.

"Little One," she said gently, "how are you?"

"Ill," Eragon said with a small smile, "very ill."

Saphira flicked out her tongue, catching him on the hand. He smiled and proceeded to heal her numerous wounds.

When he'd finished, Eragon said, "What should I tell Nasuada? She won't like the fact that I promised Roran I'd help him rescue Katrina. She may not let me go. She's bound to be planning another attack while Galbatorix's army is weak."

"That," Saphira said, her sapphire blue eyes gazing directly into his, "is when I make good on my threat and kidnap you."

"Saphira! You can't do that!"

Saphira snorted, a puff of smoke roiling from her nostrils. "As I said before, since I am linked to you I am bound by your oath of fealty to Nasuada, but as an individual I am still free to do as I wish. She must let you go. I fear Katrina has not much time, and the sooner she is rescued, the better."

Eragon only nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"What do we do now Little One?" Saphira asked.

"I don't know. We have so many obligations and not enough time to fulfill them all. We swore to Oromis we would return to Ellesmera as soon as the battle was over, but Nasuada is bound to have something for us to do, and she is my liege lord. Then there's Katrina, Hrothgar's funeral, the choosing of the new dwarf king which we will no doubt be forced to remain for, my curse on Elva which I must lift soon before Angela skins me alive and your promise to heal Isidar Mithrim. We just don't have the time! We can't be in 100 places at once. How are we supposed to DO THIS!"

"I do not know Eragon," said Saphira. "Some things may just have to wait."

"Yes but which things?" Eragon said bitterly.

Saphira was silent for a moment before saying in a soft voice, "I have never seen so much anger in your heart as I do now."

"Of course I'm angry!" Eragon raged, "my friend betrayed me, I just found out I'm the son of that traitor of a rider Morzan, my cousin's fiancée is in the clutches of the Ra'zac, and no matter what I say to her, Arya will most likely never forgive me for my advance. I can't help how I feel about her Saphira."

"I know Little One," she said, "just as I cannot help how I feel towards Gladr."

Eragon bowed his head, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. His emotions were out of control and part of him feared he was losing his sanity.

"I would welcome death right now Saphira. It would be kinder than living in such confusion and agony."

"Do not speak so Little One."

Eragon grunted.

Saphira licked his cheek and took to the sky saying, "I'm going to see if there is anything worth hunting in this foul place. Will you be all right?"

"Go. I'll be fine."

Eragon watched her go before walking through the mass of tents, having no particular destination, only a desire to move. As he walked, he thought

I wonder what Brom would say about all of this.

A tear rolled down his cheek as he thought of his old friend and mentor. Eragon hadn't truly allowed himself to miss the old man in times of trouble, but now he thought about all the times they'd spent together, unaware that the single tear he had allowed to fall had turned into a steady stream. He wept for Brom, he wept for Katrina and Garrow, he wept for his lost home, but mostly he wept for himself and Saphira.

Would the two of them always remain alone? Saphira had no mate, and Arya had made it clear she did not want Eragon. The thought brought a fresh flood of tears, as well as a deep, sharp pain that pierced his heart.

So wrapped up was he in his own thoughts, Eragon did not notice that he'd left the Burning Plains and was now walking through the wilderness. When he finally realized it, he could no longer see their bloody glow. He paused, and then continued.

Who would really notice his absence? Nobody cared about him for himself. It was all about what they could get out of him.

Well I won't be anyone's puppet anymore, Eragon thought savagely. Let Arya do it since she's so much older and stronger than I am.

He walked on, careless of where he went, part of him hoping he would meet someone he could kill with his bare hands. He did not look up from his feet, only watched them move, hypnotized by the fact that they did not seem to belong to him. His anger was carrying him away, not his feet.

Eragon walked all day, never stopping to rest, never knowing where he went. By the time the sun was sinking below the horizon, he could no longer smell the acrid fumes of the terrible place where his entire world had been shattered, and his identity thrust upon him with such brutal force.

As night crept over the land, Eragon subconsciously detached himself completely from Saphira, wanting to be utterly alone in a barren land that was as devoid of growth as his heart was of happiness and hope. Never once did he pause, even as the moon rose high into the sky. Never once did he consider danger, stop to rest or take time to hunt. He just walked, allowing his broken heart to lead the way.


End file.
